Shadow of Ravenscar: Isolde Saga, #2

By Robert D. Jones

Haunted by nightmares. Hunted by men. Destined for death.

When Isolde set out to kill the Black Witch, she discovered that some monsters are only pawns in a much bigger game.

The Witch's touch cursed Isolde. Her body blackens with rot as her mind is seized by nightmares. Erik promises to get her help, but he is leading her to the one place she was warned to stay away from - Ravenscar.

Harald and Wulfric know the danger Isolde is in. The race across the frozen north is on and the fate of humanity is on the line. If they cant get Isolde before she gets to Ravenscar then the High-King will seal his demonic deal.

Shadow of Ravenscar is the second book in the epic fantasy Isolde Saga series. If you like fast-paced adventure, heroic deeds against impossible odds, and magic darker than the abyss, then you'll love Robert D. Jones' brand new epic fantasy.

Buy Shadow of Ravenscar and join Isolde's epic adventure today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert D. Jones
• Release date: Jun 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386528395

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

I’ll kill him if he touches her… The thought curdled on Harald’s mind as he watched Isolde disappear with Erik into the white haze of the growing snowstorm. The wind screamed down from the north in a fury of snow and ice blowing hard into his face like claws of frozen steel. It blew his hair back off his face and stung his eye until it watered making the ruinous wound on his face burn with aching fire.

One eye left and I can still see better than her… he cursed in his mind. And now, he was stuck with a rat from the north that he would have happily traded in for a death-adder at a heartbeat. He didn’t trust the way Sven looked at him or the way he looked at Isolde. He had seen his kind before.

Come on, Scarface. It was the snarled voice of Sven.

Harald turned to look at him, the camp was packed down and the northerner stood looking at him. His weight all on one leg as though waiting for Harald was such a tedious task. The wind threw his wispy dark hair across his face, it looked like the haggard shreds of some war-torn banner. He was a thin man with a gaunt face. Harald noted the thick stubble on his face, it was unlike his kind to not be bearded, the people of the north prided themselves on their long plaited faces to the point that it was a sign of honour and wisdom. But Sven was clean faced, save the growth of travel. The man was clothed head to foot in thick brown furs to fight against the bitter cold. An axe was held tight in his thin leather belt and the equipment of a journeyman was strapped to his back.

Did you want to kiss her goodbye? He smirked through his throaty accent.

Harald turned without an answer and marched up the hill toward the forest from which they had come. The snow was thicker today, his boots sunk half way up his calf with each step, crunching and sloshing as he forced his way up. The journey had not even begun but his body begged for rest and if it weren’t for the wind on his back he feared he might not have even made those first steps. The wound across his face burned and ached, an ache that reached deep into his face so that even the bone felt black and bruised.

She’s an idiot… he cursed again thinking of the cost he had paid for Isolde’s life. Yet now, it was plain to see that he was nothing to her. Something she could just cast away to further her own ambition. He reached the crest of the snow-laden hill where the northern entrance of the forest began. Sven waited under the eaves of the swaying pines that stood watch on the border.

Come now, Master One-Eye, Sven said, I was asked to take you home but I didn’t think that meant carrying you.

Harald’s face screamed out in pain as he scowled at the man. The sudden pull of the severed tendons down his cheek was a painful reminder that he was now scarred for life. He struck out into the dark woods leaving Sven to follow him.

The trees were thick and menacing, some had fallen in the storm and ripped up the very earth leaving deep pits with exposed roots of gnarled wood. The collapsed trunks rested against each other and cut across the path. The travellers forced themselves to climb over or duck under as they weaved their way south.

The wind howled between the boughs, and the cold stung at Harald’s ears as it carried the faint glimmer of laughter whistling through the trees. No elves here, he reminded himself as he ran his finger along the blade of Wulfric’s great axe strapped against his back. It was a terrible weapon of heavy steel standing half as tall as Harald when he rested on it.

The snow slowly faded away as the hours passed on but still that cold wind howled down from the north.

They came to a small clearing and Harald sat down on a log to ease his aching body. It was good to sit and slide off the weighty pack and axe from his shoulders. Sven sat across from him and stretched out his legs smiling.

Well, Scarface, he said as he stood back up, looks as good a spot as any I guess.

Harald watched him warily as he drew out his axe from the belt.

The sun’s setting and the wind’s died down… he raised his axe half-heartedly and began to hit branches off of the tree Harald was sitting on. Crack… and a twig flew off,crack… another span away as the axe came closer to Harald. And here we are… you… me… alone in the woods… He smiled mockingly and swung his axe, crack…

Harald’s eye followed the steelhead as it bit into the wood next to him. His heart was racing but he forced himself to be steadfast. He would not let him see his fear.

"Your eye gives you away, Harald, Sven smirked, the gods don’t like cowards."

Crraack! Sven wedged the axe deep into the trunk so that it rested against Harald’s leg.

Take it, he mocked turning his back to Harald.

What are you doing? Harald managed to say without stuttering.

Following orders, boy, Sven said coldly, now take the axe and die with some honour.

Harald wanted to run, his heart sank, but only for a second. Without warning something inside rose up. His lips curled as hatred coursed through his veins.

Die? he spat, his one eye glaring up at Sven, why?

Why? Sven almost laughed, who cares why, just take up the damn axe so I can send you off to the hall of your fathers.

You coward, Harald snarled, sneak me off to the woods alone and wounded like a beast, and you call me a coward?

Sven laughed, plus I separated you from your woman so after Erik has his fun she can be whored off to Hrothgar.

Harald snapped to his feet ripping the axe from the wood. He swung it high and hard, letting it fly from his grip. It spun like a whirlwind, ripping the air past Sven’s head. Crack… the sound was sickening as it splintered into a tree.

Sven roared in rage, he whipped out his spare axe and cut wide arcs at Harald’s head. Harald ducked low and span behind the man. He had nothing to fight with. Sven’s steal came bearing down again. The axe glimmered in fury as it cut the air in front of him. Harald kept stepping back keeping his distance, his hands held up trying to keep the blade away as it swung out wildly.

You’re dead, bastard! Sven screamed as he lunged again and again.

Harald’s head was spinning, he kept ducking back and to the side, his one good eye darting about for something to grab. Wulfric’s axe!It’s cold steel glimmered in the setting sun behind Sven.

Yaaargh! Sven took the distraction and hurled himself at Harald. His full body weight exploded